


Onions

by Siver



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Gen, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 19:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: From a three nouns prompt (onion, calm, dance). Cabanela cheering up Alma in the never ending battle against Jowd’s secrecy post-game.





	Onions

There was an odd sound from the kitchen and Cabanela poked his nose in to see what it was. Alma was bent over the counter, holding a knife and supposedly cutting an onion, but her hand was still.

“Alma?”

There was another sound like a sniff and he realised her shoulders were shaking. He approached on quiet steps and stood by. No need to startle anyone with a knife.

“Something wrooong, baby?”

Alma shook her head and took a deep breath.

“N-no.” She gave a weak laugh. “Onions. Silly, isn’t it?”

He glanced at the supposed onion criminal, whole and entirely unblemished, then took in the sight of her face, pale and tear streaked.

“More than onions, I’d saaay.”

“I…”

He carefully lifted the knife from her hand, pushed aside the cutting board, and gently turned her to face him. He wiped away a tear with a finger.

“Want to try that agaiiin or just an onion?”

Alma bit her lip.

“I’m not sure what to say, honestly. Tired I suppose…”

Now he looked at her with concern.

“This looks like more than tired or my coat ain’t white. What happened?”

“Nothing.” She breathed out shakily. “And that’s the problem I suppose. So much nothing from him.”

Ah.

“No need to elucidaaate on ‘him’. Givin’ you the silent treatment, baby?”

“In some things…”

“The one thing that matters.”

She looked up at him. “You’ve noticed too.”

“Hard not to. Something happened to him, but you’d never know if you listened to him. Watchin’ on the other hand…”

“He’s not sleeping well,” said Alma. “Nightmares, but he won’t say a word about them. Shrugs them off with a laugh.”

That was only typical.

“Meanin’ a lack of sleep for you,” said Cabanela, eyeing her more critically. Yes, she did look more tired than usual and he cursed himself for not noticing sooner. Too much of his attention had been occupied by the elephant in the room (or insensitive and infuriating lump of rock depending on his mood).

“I… yes, between him and Kamila. Oh I don’t know,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know where it came from. Everything just seemed to hit all at once.” She wiped at her eyes again and blinked hard. “And here I am leaving dinner to get ruined.”

Cabanela eyed the stove not yet turned on, the currently chopped vegetables and the untouched onion.

“Not goin’ anywhere.” He pulled her in for a hug.

“I don’t know what to do. How long will this go on?”

“No tellin’. He’s as stubborn as the blocked ketchup bottle he fought with at lunch.”

Alma snorted and Cabanela grinned. Celebrate the small victories.  

“I caaan say,” he added, “that you ought to know you’re not alone against him. Teamwork, baby! Nothing like it.”

She leaned against his chest.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am. So no more of this hidin’ behind onions.”

“Gods…” she muttered.

She stepped back, but not before Cabanela caught her arm and twirled her around once, eliciting a startled giggle.

“What are you…?”

“And nothing like a dance to cure what ails you!” Cabanela chirped and waltzed her over to a chair.

Then he spun round, once certain she was sitting, and turned his attention to the abandoned onion. He got as far as cutting it before Alma returned to his side.

“I’m quite sure the ban Cabanela from anything not involving the coffee pot or tea kettle is still in effect,” she said with a small smile.

With the greatest and most exaggerated of care Cabanela set the knife down and stepped back. He treated Alma to an elaborate bow.

“Far be it from me to exceeed such bans.”

Alma returned to the dinner preparations, and while she seemed calmer, her smile faded.

“He’s the most solid man I know,” she said. “But now I have no idea what to expect from him let alone how to help him.”

“He’s made himself into ooone hard to crack case. Sometimes all you can do is gather information until the chance to strike presents itself.”

“Patience then. I ought to know that much by now.”

“Exaaactly and we have the advantage in numbers.”

Alma nodded as she moved to the stove. “Thank you. I thought I was okay, then I started to think and well…”

Cabanela filched a carrot, earning a raised eyebrow, but Alma otherwise refrained from comment. He waved it as if to illustrate his point.

“A plate as full as yours is bound to overflow. Thaaat is why,” he said with every bit of deliberation he seemed able to muster while he leaned against the counter, still wielding the carrot like a baton, “you have another plate here.”

“You’re right. I’ve been keeping everything to myself. The last thing I should be doing is following Jowd’s lead.”

“Perish the thought,” Cabanela replied warmly. “We’ll crack him, don’t you worry about that, baby.”

“Right, you’re right.”

Alma took a slow breath and nodded toward the cupboard. “Would you mind setting the dishes out?”

“Of couuurse.”

As Cabanela balanced the small stack of plates, he paused to look back at Alma. “And shouuuld another onion strike, you come fetch me or give me a ring.”

“I… I will.”

Satisfied, Cabanela turned his attention toward setting the table. Jowd was going to have a hell of lot of explaining to do once they pried his lid off and Cabanela would see to it that was exactly what would happen.


End file.
